


A Wild One

by Piggie50



Category: Wild Thornberrys
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piggie50/pseuds/Piggie50
Summary: Debbie” had meant caretaker, giver of hugs and affection, the one who looked after him and paid the most attention to him, it meant a sheet of curls and the smell of perfume.It meant Debbie.Now though, as Donnie was in his early adulthood, it meant something different. It meant mate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like thirty minutes, so sorry if there are any mistakes. But, I hope that you like this, I'm very surprised that there aren't any more of these two, even if it is sort of incest.

They were only about a year into the show; still called The Wild Thornberrys, but with a new crew: Eliza had replaced Nigel as the host, and Debbie was still getting adjusted to being the cinematographer.   
Their parents now worked at the Thornberrys headquarters, which had replaced the Foundation a few years back. Nigel and Marrianne found their new status in life to be rather relaxing compared to the old days, but they still enjoyed the work that was provided: Being in charge of the show and running animal ambassador programs.  
Darwin and Donnie were with the two girls now, in the jungles of Borneo, searching for new material to do their program on, a difficult feat, as their parents had covered most of the animals in this area during their own time.  
But, they were here nonetheless, Eliza and Darwin looking around, while Debbie was scouting out locations in which to film the narrative parts of the show.  
Donnie had been left behind at camp, the new RV much more stylish and high-tech then the old one, which was still in storage, serving as a sort of national treasure to the Thornberrys.  
Now, as Donnie lay in his hammock, he couldn’t help but think of how different everything was.  
He was no longer the young boy who was wild and energetic, rather, he was more controlled in his predatory habits, and was now able to remain quiet and stealthy.  
Perhaps that was how he had come across Debbie a few days ago, in her bed, her golden hair spread around her hair like a halo, her lips parted on a silent scream as her fingers had remained within her secret orifice, tangled in the curls from below, phalanges shiny and wet with her own juices.  
She had not noticed him, watching through the crack of the doorway, chest heaving as he struggled to control his breathing, his member rising against his stomach at the sight of her.  
He had snuck away, leaving her writhing on the bed, off into the forest to claim his own release.  
Donnie had always loved Debbie, had always craved her attention and time, but never as a brother would.  
“Debbie” had meant caretaker, giver of hugs and affection, the one who looked after him and paid the most attention to him, it meant a sheet of curls and the smell of perfume.  
It meant Debbie.  
Now though, as Donnie was in his early adulthood, it meant something different. It meant mate.  
Debbie was strong: Strong to survive the daily trials that their life made them endure, strong enough to keep her mind when others would have lost it to the severe boredom and stress.  
She was caring, even if she tried to hide it, and she knew what to do in a variety of strange and dangerous situations.  
Debbie was comfort, and, lately, she was the one whom his blood ran hot for.  
Suddenly, the door opened to their home, allowing entrance to the center of his thoughts, her hair, which was swept back into a ponytail, dripping from the rain that Donnie had not noticed before now.  
“It’s pouring out there,” she complained as she set the camera aside. “I hope Eliza and monkey boy come back soon, it feels like a monsoon out there.”  
She continued chattering, used to, and not bothered by his silence.  
Over the years he had learned to talk, but it was just easier not to, it was familiar not to.  
Plus, Donnie couldn’t focus on her words, not when he was remembering the sight of her naked and flushed flesh. Not when he was thinking about how it would feel to have her beneath him.  
Without realizing it, he swung himself out of his hammock and wrapped his arms around her from behind, enveloping her damp body in a fierce hug, his face buried in her hair.  
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Her voice was soft, and she pulled up a hand to place it on his arm.  
“Debbie,” he whispered, the one word that he knew above all others. “Debbie.”  
She turned her head a little, trying to catch sight of his face, but he turned away, clutching at her harder.  
“Donnie,” she said, a little louder than before, “What is it?”  
He exhaled against the back of her neck, feeling the arising goosebumps that were called forth in response, “Debbie,” he sighed, and without thinking he pressed his lips against the nape of her neck, his tongue creeping out to get a taste of her, something that he had not done in years.  
She froze.  
Suddenly understanding her discomfort, he pulled back, leaving her enough room in the circle of his arms to turn around, which she did, her hands coming up to rest on his bare chest, her eyes coming up to meet his.  
“Donnie, what-“ Her words were cut off by the door slamming open, this time letting in a disgruntled looking Darwin, and a grinning Eliza.  
Debbie stepped away from him quickly, her face tinged pink, an exciting prospect, which only furthered his flush of arousal.  
“There you are,” Debbie said, her voice a little strangled, most likely unnoticeable to someone who did not spend their time agonizing over remembering her tones. “What took you so long?”  
“I was just looking around,” Eliza said, her smile still in place.  
Debbie huffed, “More like talking to some weird birds or something.” But she said it in a friendly, teasing manner.  
Debbie had found out that Eliza could talk to animals some years ago, a talent that Donnie had already known, but she kept it to herself, a secret between the three of them, something to further bond and bind them.  
Eliza rolled her eyes behind her glasses, “Maybe,” she hedged, “Anyway, I think that tomorrow we should go deeper into the forests, I’m just positive that we’ll find something then!”  
Debbie opened some cabinets, bringing out a few boxes of something to make for dinner, “I’m sure,” she drawled, “But in the morning I think that we should go to the banks and get a few shots of the sunrise, it will make a great opening.”  
The two sisters continued discussing their segment, with Donnie sitting off to the side, soaking up their interactions, and keeping his eyes on Debbie, who was carefully avoiding his gaze, and remaining tense.  
So he had had an effect on her.  
How interesting.  
Later that night, when the moon was high, and Eliza went off to her room to write in her journal, with Darwin at her side, cheese crunchies in hand, Donnie crept along the expanse of the RV, his steps silent, his path clear as he made his way towards Debbie’s room.  
It was above Eliza’s room, the set up closely resembling their old home, with Debbie above, and Donnie in the front, with the kitchen.  
A light was on in her room, filtering out from under the doorway, enough light to see by, enough light to sneak close to.  
Debbie’s door was opened the smallest crack, and if he pressed close, Donnie could see inside.  
She was under her mound of blankets, her hair spread over her shoulder, as she was laying on her side, but she wasn’t resting.   
Her arm seemed to be moving, or, more specifically, her hand, and Donnie realized what she was doing.  
Without hesitation, Donnie eased the door open and slid across the floor to the end of her bed, taking in her small breathy moans, and the fluttering fan of her eyelashes, her brilliant eyes closed against his view.  
“Debbie,” he whispered, and those eyes shot open.  
“Donnie,” she gasped, “What are you doing in here?”  
His knees hit the edge of the bed, toned arms coming up to make a cage around her legs, “You…know,” he said after a minute.  
“Donnie,” she cautioned, sitting up now, “You shouldn’t be in here. This is not right.” She stressed the last part, but he wasn’t listening any more.  
Something primal and old as time had woken up beneath his skin, something uncontrollable, guiding him and telling him what to do.  
Without waiting for her approval, Donnie yanked the blankets away from her, making Debbie gasp, but he was enraptured by the sight of her: Bare hips and legs, the apex between her thighs soaked once more, perhaps more than the first time, blonde curls darkened beyond honey.  
“Debbie,” he sighed again, and brought up one hand and sank the tips of two fingers into that juicy split.  
She made a keening noise, her hands grasping the sheets under her, teeth biting down onto her plump bottom lip.  
She was so tight, so warm, so wet around his fingers, the calloused bits of skin on his digits scraping against her inner walls, exploring her, spreading the wetness.  
“Donnie,” she moaned, the only thing that was on her mind, the only word that could be spoken at the moment. He was pleased with this.  
“Debbie, Debbie,” he leaned down to run his lips, then his teeth along her throat, the pale column undulating beneath his own sensitive skin, her pulse rapid.  
His member was so hard, so fat, tingling with want, with need for his Debbie. His.  
Suppressing a growl, Donnie pulled his fingers out of her, and shoved his shorts down, the spring of his hard cock against his stomach making him hiss.  
Debbie stared at him, her eyes wide, mouth dropped open, something like doubt crossing over her face, like a shadow. He couldn’t have that.  
Using the hand that had been on her skin, he wrapped it around his hardness, wiping her juices onto his cock, moving forward to press his lips against hers, whispering into her mouth her name, the only thing that he had ever wanted for himself.  
Then, with his Debbie sufficiently distracted, his took his cock head and pressed himself inside of her, her walls sucking at him like a hungry mouth, taking him in, trembling at his girth.  
“Donnie,” she gasped at him, her hands coming up to tangle into his hair, to run along his shoulders and back, her fingernails a sharp reminder of their union.  
“Debbie,” he breathed back, his mind nearly going blank at the feel of her, the sudden seep of boiling fluid that rushed out to meet him, her juices sopping out of her, frothing up around his cock as he pulled out and slammed back in, eager to know her, to fill her.  
They kept up an uneven pace, the slap of skin intoxicating, the sweat that gathered on their skin making their skin glow.  
“Debbie,” he snarled, pressing close to her, biting down against the skin of her shoulder, making her cry out, making her tighten around him, a trembling starting from her core, gripping onto him, making them both release.  
Their juices, climaxes, met, seeping out around him, a physical manifestation of them, together.  
Panting, Donnie pulled out of her, loathe to let go of her, but, he snuggled against her side, Debbie’s fingers coming up to comb through his hair, soothing him despite her tiredness.  
He wanted to be in her again, but, he thought, as he put his hand over her flat and trembling stomach, perhaps he had already put something inside of her yet.


End file.
